


Hanley Waters

by dralexreid



Series: Dr Piper Bishop [67]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Grief, Loss, Mourning, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28999851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dralexreid/pseuds/dralexreid
Summary: As each member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit deals with their emotions regarding the loss of SSA Emily Prentiss, Piper Bishop has to cope with lying to her found family and her turmoil regarding the loss of said friend.
Relationships: Dr Spencer Reid/Dr Piper Bishop
Series: Dr Piper Bishop [67]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972852
Kudos: 13





	Hanley Waters

Aaron watched carefully as Derek processed why he was called into the cabin in the first place, leaning on his elbows, his hands folded in front of his nose. “So, I came in here to do what? Talk about losing Emily?” The profiler leaned back into Aaron’s couch, trying to discern what Hotch wanted from him. He knew why he was doing this. Because no external assessment measure would ever clear them for the field. “Did Strauss put you up to this?”

“The assessment's routine,” Hotch supplied. “I asked her to let me do it rather than bring in somebody from the outside.”

“So, let me guess... it's about the 5 stages of grief,” Derek said bitterly. “You want to figure out where we all are. Hmm?”

“Any working psychiatrist would tell you that the model is considered to be outdated, inaccurate, and unhelpful in explaining the grieving process,” Aaron remarked, and Derek snorted derisively.

“So, Piper tried to talk you out of it?”

“I simply asked Bishop for a guideline. It’s just a conversation. She knew you’d bring that model up and if that’s how you process it, then that’s up to you,” Aaron said.

“All right,” Derek acceded. “Denial. I'm fine, this can't be happening to me,” he said mockingly. “Well, it didn't happen to me, did it? So that rules that out. What else is there? Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. Well, obviously I haven't accepted it, otherwise, I wouldn't be in here. So where does that leave me?”

“Angry,” Aaron supplied.

“Angry,” Derek repeated. “Yeah. Yeah, sometimes I feel like I want to quit my job and spend my time chasing down the son of a bitch who killed Emily. You're damn right I'm angry.”

* * *

Piper had picked out a white button up and a pair of jeans with a simple watch. The leather had faded but she liked it. She just finished combing through the knots in her hair when Louise burst through the door. “What’s wrong, Lou?”

“He won’t go,” she said, her Irish accent faded.

“Why not?”

“He says he’s sick.” Piper unbuttoned her white sleeves, following Louise to the boy’s bedroom as she folded them up to her elbow. Louise opened the door, revealing a large lump under a duvet. Stretching out her fingers, Piper started feeling for his sides, tickling the lump gently so that a giggling blonde boy popped out from underneath the starry covers.

“Lou says you’re sick.” The 12-year-old nodded adamantly, and Piper felt his forehead. “Well, this doctor doesn’t think so.”

“But you’re not a doctor! How do you know I’m not sick?” Piper nodded, as though she were genuinely concerned.

“Lou, get me the thermometer, would you?” The matronly housekeeper left immediately. “But we’re gonna make this interesting. “If you really are sick, I’ll let you stay home, and I will cook whatever you want. But if you aren’t, you have to go to school and do all your homework and as punishment for lying, no Doctor Who tonight.” Declan looked horrified and completely upset. “But…if you confess right now and tell me why you really don’t want to go to school, I’ll take it all back.” Declan thought over the offer until Louise arrived, passing Piper the thermometer. “Well?”

“There’s a test tomorrow,” Declan whispered. “I wanted to stay back and study.” Piper flashed him a rueful smile.

“Are you worried about the test?” He nodded.

“I like being the honour student,” Declan said softly, breaking Piper’s heart.

“Louise, would you mind bringing me Declan’s things please?” Piper said, readjusting her seat next to Declan as the housekeeper rushed off again. “Deck, you don’t have to worry about being the honour student. Lou, and Linc and Lilly and I are all so proud of you,” Piper told him, brushing his blonde curls from his blue eyes. “And I promise, once you come home, I will help you study.”

“Promise?” Piper held out her pinkie and Declan giggled, clasping it with his.

“And you never know, maybe one of your teachers will be extra nice and give you a revision lesson,” Piper said, standing up, offering her hands to him. Declan’s hands clasped hers and Piper pretended to heave him up, eliciting another giggle from him as Louise arrived with Lincoln in tow.

“Hey, Laurel, you told me to expect a hungry monster,” he said to Piper, pretending not to see the little monster in front of him. “I have waffles and no-one to eat them with.”

“Maybe you forgot that monsters love whipped cream and strawberries,” Piper pointed out, ignoring the boy jumping next to her.

“I want waffles!” Declan yelled.

“Well, you better come fast,” Lincoln warned him, squatting down to eye level. “Monsters love waffles.” Declan laughed again, running for Linc who lifted him up in one swoop in a superman pose, both of them yelling as they ran to devour the waffles.

“You have kids of your own?” Lou asked as she packed things into Declan’s bag. Piper offered her a confused glance. “You’re too good at this.” Piper snickered and the two women made their way down to the kitchen.

“No, but if you ask me, every parent should read at least one college textbook on child psychology.” Both of them burst into laughter at the sight of the usually stone-faced Lillian Rudolph with whipped cream splattered on her face. Piper turned to Declan, who put his hands up in surrender which Lincoln mirrored.

“She did that to herself,” Lincoln laughed.

“You know what, I wasn’t even hungry anyway,” Lillian said, about to storm off when Piper stopped her. Holding back a laugh, she used a finger to scoop off a bit and stuck it in her mouth, eliciting more laughter from the others as she stormed off.

* * *

Penelope didn’t like the couch, saying it reminded her too much of the therapy she went to after her parents died. Instead, she chose a leather seat, dragging it in front of Aaron and taking her seat. “I get it. We're a family, and it's important that families talk, and holding it in will just make this sick, sad feeling of awfulness more awful.” Hotch held back his gentle smile but a more experienced profiler would have caught the crinkle in his eye.

“Internalizing does make it worse,” Aaron admitted.

“I'll talk, but I don't want to talk about her being gone. Can I talk about how she made me smile?”

“Of course.”

“So, we were at this bar and Emily was getting us drinks and this guy, Brad, I think, comes up to her and they’re talking for like 15 minutes,” Penelope said, sinking into the comfort of her memories. “Eventually, she brings this guy over to us with our drinks and she tells us that Brad is an FBI agent, and we start asking him questions, like what department he’s in and what it’s like at Quantico—” Penelope couldn’t help the broad smile that erupted on her face. “And all he could say was, that’s classified. So, Emily asked to see his badge and he just said the same thing. So, then we all pulled out our own badges and he just ran away.” Aaron resisted the urge to hug Penelope as her eyes reddened, tears slipping past her nose. “I don’t know how to do this job without her,” she confessed. “And I’m tired of losing people.”

* * *

It wasn’t that Piper hated parties. Maybe it was the feeling of unfamiliarity in her backyard surrounded by strangers. Maybe it was the suffocating way Lincoln had an arm around her waist, chatting to a neighbour about his experience in journalism. Maybe it was how the old man in the wheelchair leered at her slightly and how his wife kept calling her ‘young lady’. Instead, she plastered a fake smile, brushing her lips mechanically against Lincoln’s cheek before rushing inside and into the bathroom. Everything was suffocating around her, the chatter from downstairs, the wall closing in, in, in, the blouse she wore buttoned all the way up to the bottom of her neck and frustrated, she ripped the top two buttons apart before yanking on the tap and splashing her face with water. Cool water dripped down her face, clinging onto her lashes as she blinked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was thick and wavy, gold and brown highlights snaking through her dark mahogany hair that cut off around the ears. She wasn’t sure when tap water merged with salty tears as she fingered the silver acorn pendant. She wanted to wrench the gold band from her finger and flush it until a knock came on the door. “Coming!” she yelled, wiping at her face with the pastel yellow towel before opening the door to reveal Lincoln.

“People are starting to get suspect,” Lincoln said, looking down before looking away. “Your, um, your shirt.” Piper cursed, ducking into their room to button up quickly. “So, um, what does your boyfriend make of all this?” Lincoln asked, coming in when she was decent as she reapplied her lip balm.

“Same thing your fiancée probably does,” Piper evaded, turning around to grasp his outstretched hand. “Shall we, husband?” She snickered.

“We shall, wife,” Lincoln scoffed, twirling her once before accompanying her downstairs to their small party.

* * *

“The last time I was on a couch like this was when my father left,” Spencer said, sitting solemnly on the couch. “They all thought I needed to talk, but developmentally I wasn't guided by conscience. I could only reveal what my mother and teachers told me was acceptable.”

“You told them exactly when you knew they wanted to hear. You don't have to do that here.”

“It's just unfair that she's gone,” Spencer said, his voice breaking softly. “It's like if we can't keep each other safe, then why are we even doing any of this?” Silence hung palpably in the chief’s office. “It's... Sometimes I think maybe...” He lifted his gaze from the floor to Aaron’s extensive bookshelf. “Maybe Gideon was right, you know, maybe…maybe it's just not worth it.”

“I don’t think that means we stop trying,” Aaron supplied softly.

“For how long?” Spencer asked.

“As long as we can.”

* * *

Piper sighed in relief as the last of the guests drained out of the house, thrilled to finally shut the door and to let the smile fade from her lips. “I hate Tom for making us do this,” she complained bitterly.

“It would look odd if we didn’t try,” Lincoln scoffed, finishing off the last of the finger sandwiches.

“Yeah, but you know what this means now,” Piper said, pulling out a soda from the fridge. “It means birthday parties and play dates and brownies and PTA meetings.”

“Brownies sound good to me,” Lincoln supplied with an easy smile as she hopped onto a free counter. “Besides, it’s good practice.”

“Is he talking about his engagement again?” Lillian grumbled, finally emerging from the basement to grab a glass of peach champagne and draining it in one gulp.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is my happiness drowning you, Lils?”

“C’mon, Rudolph, back me up here,” Piper pleaded. “PTA meetings suck.”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely,” Lillian agreed, grabbing a cookie. “With all the Karens and the absurd, irrelevant fundraisers for the local under-13s,” she grumbled, and Lincoln and Piper shared a look before gazing at the short stack of complaints curiously. “And stop talking about your personal lives.”

“Oh my god, you have a kid,” Piper said gleefully, jumping off the counter. Lillian almost choked on her cookie.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about and I have a job to do,” Lillian countered, scurrying off back down to her basement.

“I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner,” Piper laughed. She supposed there was a certain freedom to being undercover, leaving behind the pain of losing Emily into this happy-go-lucky persona. Pretending to be the perfect wife and the perfect surrogate mother had its perks. It wasn’t the healthiest way to go around the trauma of losing her, but it was the only way she knew how to cope. Taking care of Declan and Louise was what Emily wanted her to do, but there was more to it than that. Protecting people and taking care of them was all she knew how to do. Mind you, she hadn’t done it very well. She’d failed to protect her sister and Arthur and Emily and now, if she failed to protect Declan and Louise and this new team, then the question had to be asked. Who was she?

* * *

Somehow, Dave and Aaron had switched positions. Somehow, Aaron was seated on the couch, the older profiler on his armchair. “There are benefits to meeting after hours,” Dave said, swilling his glass of amber liquor with a soft smirk.

“You know everyone’s feeling it, but no one wants to talk about it,” Aaron remarked, his own glass forgotten.

“It’s too soon, Aaron. You know that better than anyone. And uh, doesn’t Strauss usually run these assessments?”

“There’s no way that was going to happen,” Aaron said, his face the perfect image of neutrality as David scoffed.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. I also know that you grieve privately. But you’ve been through more than any of us in a very short time. How are you holding up?” Aaron kept his gaze low, watching the amber liquid in his glass mournfully.

“I’m alright,” Aaron admitted. “I think it’s an ongoing process.” He missed Emily, of course he did, but not in the way the others did. He didn’t know where she was, how she was doing, what she was doing. He only knew that she wasn’t here and his only comfort that she was alive at all, was his torture. Derek was angry. Penelope was in bargaining. Spencer was depressed. Rossi seemed to have accepted it. So, where was he? Denial? Was he feeling grief at all, or just loss? Or maybe Piper was right? Maybe there was no rationalising grief. Maybe they should just feel the grief as it came instead of trying to understand it and compartmentalise it. “This is not my assessment,” Aaron remarked with a small smile breaking through his wall. “I’m supposed to be asking how you’re doing.” Rossi shook his head subtly, contemplating the state of his psyche.

“I’ve always had trouble letting people in, but this is different. I guess, I’ve come to realise, I’m more married to this team than I ever was with three ex-wives.” Hotch smiled reluctantly, looking back down at his glass.

“It’s been a hard year,” Aaron remarked. “We’ll get through it.”

“Yeah, we will.” Rossi lifted his glass up to Hotch. “Emily and Haley.” Aaron lifted his own and the two drank to the memories of two astonishing members of their intricately close family.

* * *

Piper hadn’t had a full family dinner table since her mom died. But here, with Louise and Lincoln and Lillian and Declan, for once, it felt like she was floating on air. Lincoln sat on her left side with enraptured attention as he talked about all the places he’d been. This was what home was meant to feel like. In her mind, she felt the same peace she did when she was 10, her mom telling Lucy about the myth of Arachne as she fed her mushy peas. Daniel telling their dad about the recital coming up, still hoping they would show up as a family. But that memory felt so distant and unfamiliar. What did feel familiar was Louise’s hand drifting to hers in motherly concern. What did familiar was Lincoln rambling about Germany’s foothills. What felt familiar was Lillian’s snide remarks every so often. What felt familiar was helping Declan revise for his exam. But the familiarity didn’t come from her childhood. It came from Gideon’s trust in her abilities, from Hotch’s grudging respect, from Rossi’s paternal concern, from Derek’s brotherly faith, from Spencer’s affectionate love, from Penelope’s limitless optimism, from JJ’s unwavering reliability all the way to Emily’s unimpeachable fidelity. That was why it felt familiar, though the root of it remained as distant as ever.

* * *

“60 seconds,” Derek said, lifting his head out of his hands. “If I’d gotten to her 60 seconds earlier, Emily might still be with us.”

“Derek, you know that you did everything you could,” Aaron said gently.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I did everything I could. We all did. I know. What, that's supposed to make me feel better?” Derek snapped.

“You protected each other for years,” Aaron reminded him. “Don't expect this to go away anytime soon.”

“This what? This what?” Derek repeated. “This guilt?”

“Just because you were the last one there doesn't mean that you could affect the outcome. We all wish we had that kind of control.”

“So, what do we do, we just chalk it up to fate? What, I can't blame anybody? What, this is the will of God? No. I do blame somebody,” Derek spat. “I blame Doyle.” He let out a deep breath. “Hotch, what am I supposed to do? She was my _friend_. I lost my friend right in front of me and I'm supposed to go on like nothing happened?” Aaron remained silent. It would have been so simple just to let the truth slip out, to relieve them of all their pain. It would be so simple to put an end to their suffering. To tell him that he hadn’t failed Emily. That he had protected her. But he remained silent. “You know, we, um... We come in here and we talk to you. Where do you go? Where are you in all of this?”

“The same place as you,” Aaron confessed. “Wishing she was here.”


End file.
